


Dirty Laundry Duty

by MaidenM



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fantasizing, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Projection, Public Masturbation, Scent Kink, Slut Shaming, pre-TS, wankweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaidenM/pseuds/MaidenM
Summary: Hubert hadn’t realized he was looking for it until he held it in his hands and a spark of shame tickled with an unexpected pleasantness in his chest. The pair of underwear in his hands were made of fine silk. The cut was different than what he expected, less modest as far as underwear went.Hubert sneered. For what purpose did Ferdinand wear slutty silk underwear?Written for the wankweek, day 2: public spaces/fantasizing
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 15
Kudos: 99





	Dirty Laundry Duty

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't know about wankweek before yesterday and I just kind of hurled this out of me. Some pre-ts horny pining and projection from Hubert who totally does not indulge in a scent kink nor fancy Ferdinand, no sir! He's just objectively sexy, anyone would do the same.

There were times Hubert really found his patience tried with the whole “good students” spiel he and his Lady were forced to do at the academy, and the situation he found himself in right now was truly one of the most grating. “Laundry duty” was really just carrying bags of dirty clothing to the washer’s building, which was tedious, heavy and quite frankly he had much more important things to do. Didn’t the Church have servant for this exact purpose? Whose idea was it to involve students in this?

Arriving at the washer’s with little fanfare, he found the building empty. Not even the head washerwoman, Mrs. McGuffin, was there. His instruction was to leave the bags he was carrying and go get the next load and just repeat this until his quota had been met. Tedious and pointless. Frustrated he threw the bags to the floor.

He was just about the leave when he noticed a piece of clothing falling out of one of the bags. He couldn’t help but to recognize it. These were Ferdinand’s clothes.

He paused, just for a moment. It wasn’t curiosity, he told himself. His job involved knowing everyone’s secrets, and there was a reason it was called “dirty laundry”.

With a quick look around to make sure he was still alone, he opened up the bag. At first glance it was just the usual uniform the academy demanded they’d wear, but clearly tailored by a highly paid artisan. School uniforms were meant to create a feeling of unity, but as with Hubert’s own velvet uniform with it’s unusual plum shade many of the students would put their own spin on theirs. Ferdinand’s was clearly the result of many hours of work and much coin.

Disappointed, but unsure why, Hubert kept digging.

Gloves, socks, cravats - so many cravats - and of course…

Hubert hadn’t realized he was looking for it until he held it in his hands and a spark of shame tickled with an unexpected pleasantness in his chest. The pair of underwear in his hands were made of fine silk. The cut was different than what he expected, less modest as far as underwear went.

Hubert sneered. For what purpose did Ferdinand wear slutty silk underwear?

Turning the pair over in his hands, his mind raced. Had Ferdinand worn these to entice someone, an ignoble clandestine meeting in the shadows? Had someone gently pulled them down his thighs before defiling him utterly and completely?

Hubert felt himself thicken at the thought.

Or was this just who Ferdinand was, he wondered as he brought the clothing closer to his face. Without thinking, he inhaled. There was a musky scent to it, not unpleasant but definitely not clean. Had Ferdinand worn them for a full day? Yesterday? Through class and choir and training and…

Hubert didn’t realize he was groaning until his voice echoed back to him from the walls, his nose buried in the fabric.

Was Ferdinand wearing something similar now? Was this slip of fine fabric the norm for him? A life of silver spoons, pureblood horses and expensive silk? If he went of to find Ferdinand now to tear off his clothes would he be greeted by something soft and maybe lacy, perhaps not just around his hips but maybe his chest or thighs as well?

With a strange lightheadedness, Hubert pulled himself out of his pants and began to stroke himself. He was painfully hard as his tongue slipped out to taste the fabric, something foul and thrilling coiling in his gut as he did.

He eyed the bag at his feet, wondering what other treasures might lie within. His mind filled with images of not just smalls but socks, garters, maybe even corsets. Ferdinand did have a alluring figure, even he could admit that. He wouldn’t put it past him to achieve such a look through vain shapewear, clothing designed to make people look at him, to lust after him.

That’s right, this was Ferdinand’s fault. Why else would he wear this?

With that thought burning in his mind, Hubert brought the underwear down to his own groin and wrapped it around his cock. It was soft, slightly damp from his mouth and felt so, so good against his skin and he jerked himself with it. As he pleasured himself he imagined Ferdinand’s face, how it would look if he saw him now. He’d be appalled, of course. Not at his conduct, but at the fact that Hubert knew. That he knew him to be a filthy man, a whore in disguise, a wanton slut. And if he begged nicely, maybe Hubert would be kind. Maybe he would give the redhead what he wanted, what he _needed--_

It was with the thought of Ferdinand kneeling at his feet, lips parted in disbelief and hunger that Hubert spent himself into the clothing with a low grunt.

It took a few moments for him to get back to himself, to take in the reality of where he was and what he was doing once again. The fine silk was soiled with his seed, and even if the washers got the stains out it was possible he had ruined the fabric with his rough treatment. He huffed out a laugh, somehow hoping it would never be the same and that Ferdinand would notice.

He threw the underwear back into the bag, tucked himself back into his pants and made sure he looked presentable. He exchanged his dirtied gloves with a spare pair he kept in his pocket and took a deep breath.

Then he went back to his chores. It wouldn’t do for him to bring shame upon his Lady by neglecting his duties.


End file.
